


Laying the Groundwork

by PaperAnn



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angelic Grace Sex (Supernatural), Barebacking, Canon Compliant, Episode: s02e22 All Hell Breaks Loose, Falling In Love, First Time, Fix-It, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e21 All Hell Breaks Loose, Season/Series 02, Soulmates, Supernatural Kink Bingo 2019, Top Gabriel/Bottom Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-09-14 18:26:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16918017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperAnn/pseuds/PaperAnn
Summary: Sam had always been the Winchester who saw that life was more than black and white.  While true good and absolute evil existed in the world, there was so much more on the spectrum he was willing to accept.  Maybe this time, he was using that philosophy as an excuse…It wasn’t exactly like he’d prepared to feel the pull of his damn soulmate during ahunt!Except, Sam had faith everything happened for a reason.  When he allowed their ‘creature of the week’ to fake his death while they walked away from an incomplete mission (unbeknownst to Dean), that same monster ended up proving soulmates were real—saving Sam’s life.





	Laying the Groundwork

**Author's Note:**

> **Ann's Notes:** First fic of 2019! Right away, I'm happily and wholly diving into SPN Kink Bingo as my only bingo challenge this year and we're starting off with some Sabriel :)
> 
> While normally this will be in the note section at the end, you'll be seeing a lot of the following—
> 
> _Written for SPN Kink Bingo 2019_  
>  Square Filled: Soulmates
> 
> Very excited for a year of challenges and fics full of porn ((with plot))! Cheers to 2019! xoxo

The first time Sam felt _it,_ he shoved the feeling aside and chalked it up to some kind of… weird enchantment.  

After all, they had no friggin clue _what_ they were hunting!  The niggling itch had Sam flying back to the motel room and checking for hex bags, searching every nook and cranny for some kind of cursed object, for _anything_.  
  
Maybe along the way they’d acquired something that had been turned ‘on,’ its spellwork set in motion.  Runes on a Curse Box could’ve been scratched—haphazardly tossed in back next to a machete, clunking around and damaged from Dean’s lead foot.

When Dean found Sam digging wildly through the truck of the Impala, he raised an unimpressed brow and blandly asked, “Can I help you?”

The pair were already at odds and butting heads.  Sam had no doubt Dean was watching him, seeing if he was trying to ’sabotage’ him again.  Dammit, he’d never 'sabotaged’ Dean in the first place!  But his brother was dead-set against believing him—

Sam stepped away, hands raised in the air and said, “Sorry.  Just… checking on things.”

To say Dean wasn’t convinced was an understatement.

He’d literally shoved Sam out of the way and snapped, “What the hell!  At least put shit back where you found it!” glaring while he went to work meticulously rearranging their arsenal.

The worst part: Sam was _still_ empty handed and without an answer.  And now Dean was more pissed off than ever.  Fuck.

Everything about this case was a mystery.  They couldn’t figure out a damn thing!  It wasn’t until Bobby was recruited, desperate to make heads or tails of this mess, that they learned what they were dealing with.

A Trickster.

But… the knowledge only alleviated half of Sam’s problem.

The second Dean left on a booze run, at least knowing the _reason_ they were at each other’s throats, Bobby didn’t wait to swoop in and take his place.

Sam was blankly staring at the peeling wallpaper when he heard a booming, “What’s goin’ on in that head’a yours?” loud enough to tip him off his chair.

He grappled for the table, swung around and narrowed his eyes.  “What?  I mean—” but, hell, Bobby was staring down into his damn soul!  Sam took a deep breath and restarted, trying to figure out words that he didn’t even have to give.  “I just… ever since we began investigating…I’ve been _off_.  Ever since we landed on this stupid campus, my brain’s been going haywire.  But now we know why, so—”

“Nah.  This is something different.”

Bobby was so certain.  So firm and absolute.

Yeah, Sam knew it, too.

It wasn’t only the way he was bickering with Dean.  It was the stupid tension between him and something just outside his reach.  There was an invisible tether that had hooked him and was reeling him in, but it didn’t make any goddamn sense!  Sam couldn’t tell _family_ what was going on in his, well...it kind of felt like an extra pulse in his heart.  A linked-up beating next to his own—

It didn’t make sense!

Sam sucked a breath in through his teeth, before agreeing, “Something _is_ different.  I don’t know what.”

“I’ve never seen you on edge like this, son.  Can you give me anythin’ to work with?” Bobby’s voice softened, watching Sam’s back go rigid.  “You’re the only one who can help you right now.  But I can support you.  What’s it going to take?”

“I told you,” Sam’s words were hushed and his eyes fell to the floor.  “I dunno.”

\-------------------

Sam figured it out—and pretty damn fast—when their Trickster was revealed.  And…he _choked_.

He _fucking choked_  in battle.  There was a moment of hesitation on the “monster’s” face, something flickered in his eyes turning _Sam_ into the unsuspecting prey.  Except, the Trickster was not a run-of-the-mill predator, no, not by a long shot.  
  
Their proximity was what did it.

Immobile, unbelieving and stunned into shock, the full-out assault of a hunt that was _supposed_ to end in killing the Trickster became a moment of _absolute clarity_.

Sam’s head was spinning; he lost his grip on the stake.  All at once, he recognized this constant nagging, this connection for what it was.  And it's name.

Soulmate.

Sam Winchester’s goddamn _soulmate_ was a person—no, a _creature_ —who they were set to kill because of his love for serving up just desserts!

But he—

No!  Sam couldn’t go through with this!

The line between them yanked taut, and even as the Trickster’s imaginative illusions turned into death-machines, Sam couldn’t pull the trigger!  Or rather: pick up the stake.

What was he thinking, what was the other man _feeling_ , as he continued fighting with his gleeful malice to beat down both Bobby and Dean?  There was a split-second of understanding, of that same fucking bulb going off, as he hesitated to go after Sam…but that’s all it was.

A hesitation.

Then the scene transformed into a free-for-all—Sam’s fucking soulmate not holding an ounce of remorse as he set loose an attack on the _one person_ he was _destined_ to be with.

Sam shouldn’t have been shocked, this situation was kill or be killed, but he’d hoped for something more.  Maybe the prospect of romance was enough for a ceasefire?  Who was Sam kidding, this guy was reveling in his self-produced B-Grade Slasher Horror ready to happen.  Blood lust wasn't a bad habit, it was who—and _what_ —the Trickster was, Sam couldn't change that, let alone think fast enough to dare tell anyone what was happening! 

When Dean staked the Trickster through the heart, Sam’s jaw dropped to scream out, but it was too late.

The man’s body going limp, his one chance at love (that he’d already worked out would never happen) vanished as quickly as he’d found it—

Except…

Sam’s mouth slammed shut.

While Dean and Bobby were doing their victory lap, all cheer and boisterous excitement, Sam frowned.  He noticed something curious.

That tugging line, it hadn’t died when the Trickster had.  It was obvious: he was playing dead.

Sam found himself in a position he never thought he’d be in.  To tell the truth to his brother, to Bobby.  They _should_ hit the ground running: continue tracking him before the trail ran cold, finish what they’d begun, save more innocent lives, or—  
  
His final choice was zipping his lips.  Sam was going to play along even though he shouldn’t, even though it wasn’t over, even though he _knew_ they’d killed an illusionary double, but...how the hell could he watch his soulmate die?  Continue to pursue and make damn sure he was gone?

There was a special place in hell for people who carved up those Destiny had picked specially for them, and what unfolded made Sam believe he had a chance.  Even though he shouldn’t want one, shouldn’t pursue this, shouldn’t even allow the Trickster to continue his work but…he couldn’t tell Dean or Bobby they’d been duped.

Call it selfish.  Call it whatever you liked.

Sam walked out of the auditorium alongside his family, knowing the Trickster was alive and well.  Knowing his soulmate was still out there, thriving, and maybe...they'd catch up to each other again one day.  He surprised himself with the idea, the longing of hope that perhaps Sam would see him soon.

They both knew _exactly_ what they were.

Sam had recognized that look, the stunned dawning written across the Trickster’s face, and knowing what he knew about the guy already—he wouldn’t let it lie.

Sam was counting on it.

\--------------------

The second time Sam felt it, it was a blossoming hope in the dead heat of fear.

He was ashamed—desperately grasping at all the splitting seams—because it had been a long, long time since he’d lost all control of a situation.  Where things had spiraled and collapsed around him so horribly.  Where the people surrounding Sam _hadn’t_ looked towards him as a beacon, but were turning against him.

Nearly everyone was dead.

It was a sick version of Battle Royale inside a ghost town, with the Yellow-Eyed demon pitting all his ‘Special Children’ against one another.  All to see who would make it out as the strongest, an experiment in survival of the fittest.  
  
Sam was revolted: all these humans showing their true colors and acting in the image of the very demon who’d fed them blood.  Motive was simple, whether the evil was in human or demon form: they slaughtered the pure and dimmed any threats of light.  With a endgame like that, the battlefield was impossible to spot until you were already in the ring.  And _losing_.

While Andy had helped Sam send a psychic message to Dean, he could only hope it was received, then pray to God it was even understood.  His one shot was cryptic at best, Andy a victim of the twisted game.  Ava, who Sam had blindly trusted, who he’d believed and thought of as someone with a good heart, turned out to be unfettered evil.

Now plagued by the knowledge Yellow-Eyes had killed Jess, the demon blood running through his own veins, and the fresh image of Jake killing Ava, _fuck_ , all the two of them could do was _get out._

Until Jake turned on Sam.

The fight was wild adrenaline and recklessness, Sam knowing damn well he was the underdog.  He’d witnessed firsthand the way Jake moved, military-trained and already-honed-powers, with strength to mindlessly snap metal like twigs.  How he could fling literal tons of weight like a damn bag of feathers.  How Sam’s neck would break at the flick of his wrist.

This wasn’t supposed to happen!  None of this!

It was the monsters _out there_ they needed to rally against, not flesh on flesh humans destroying _each other_ —

Somehow, through tunnel vision, blood, bruises and bone breaks, Sam managed to knock Jake unconscious.  He couldn’t kill him; the soldier was another pawn, and Sam could hear Dean and Bobby in the distance.  Finally!

The message, it had worked!  Sam could be free of the living nightmare, all the carnage and the meaningless body count left behind, his family had found him—!

When Sam turned to follow their voices, three things happened.

He felt a familiar presence from faraway, propelling closer, as fast as a bolt of lightning—

Then Sam was shoved face-first onto the muddy ground, the impact rattling him and knocking the wind from his lungs.

There wasn’t pain, but there was the sound of… wings?

And the dying cries of a man, gurgling and choking—he _knew_ that sound—he was choking on blood.

Sam fought to turn and roll, to get to his back, and even when every strained muscle and broken bone screamed at him—Sam could _feel_ who appeared before he saw him.

The Trickster.  Wielding a foreign blade gouged straight through Jake’s gut.

Although the soldier trumped him in size, the wound was fatal, and he collapsed over the Trickster’s shoulder.  Jake’s hand went limp and a blade of his own clattered on the ground.

“Holy shit—” Sam gasped, because _all three of them_ , they were toe-to-toe.

Jake was right up on him.  He was _right_ -fucking- _there,_ he would’ve stabbed Sam in the back while his focus was forward and he was defenseless, stumbling towards his family.  
  
And… Sam’s soulmate had popped out of the woodwork to _save him_?  Even if Sam had let him slip away, they had been hunting him—

The Trickster didn’t bother covering up his disgusted grunt, tossing the now-lifeless body back to the soil.  He wiped the blood clean from his blade and slowly turned around.  A tension in his shoulders was drawn in preparation, as though his presence would be rejected while Dean and Bobby closed in.

Sam had to rush out the words, “You saved my life,” in awe.  He had to know, “How?  How did you know this would happen?”

With a heavy sigh, the Trickster reached out.  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

Eagerly, Sam took his hand and the moment they touched the string wasn’t a idea, a conceptual line between them anymore—it was hot, singed like fire—fiercely burning between their skin.  When Sam was pulled to his feet, his mouth agape from the sensation, he didn’t want to let go.  He—he _couldn’t_ let go, not when he finally had his soulmate in front of him!

Suddenly, the Trickster snapped and time stood still.

A single leaf caught on the breeze stuck in the air, captured, like a photograph.  It created a churning in his stomach.  Sam dared to look over his shoulder on instinct, seeing both Dean and Bobby were frozen smack dab in the middle of their leap over a fallen log.  They were no longer gaining on them in speed or distance.  And they hadn’t caught sight of who Sam was with.  
  
He turned back to see the Trickster’s lips pursed when he solemnly stated, “You were supposed to die tonight.”

Brows knitted together, Sam demanded, “What?!  How would you know that?  And how can you do _that_?” gesturing wildly over his shoulder.

“Like I said, Sammy.  You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”  When he tried to pull away, Sam pulled him closer, knowing it was a risky move.  Now, the sharp edge in the Trickster’s tone could cut.  “I did something I shouldn’t have.  I just fucked up _destiny_.  Do you understand that?  There are paths, roles that were _supposed_ to be played, and I—”

“Did it because you’re my soulmate.”  Sam wasn’t sure why the words came so easily.  “But you’re more than that.  You’re powerful.“  He also didn’t understand why he reached out and took the Trickster’s other hand either.  “And you used it to save me.  Does that mean—”

“I don’t know what the hell it means,” he huffed in annoyance.  “It means you’re a stupid fucking Moose that constantly gets into trouble.  Yer gonna give me a heart attack.”

Sam realized slowly, “You’ve been watching me.”

“Sounds creepy when you say it like that.”  His words were grumbled and blase instead of the admission that could taken Sam's breath away, knowing he'd been so close all this time.  “Sam.  You’ve got more to worry about.  You guys have gotta get yer asses to back to Sioux Falls, someone's got info for you.  There’s still one Child that Yellow-Eyes has got on his squad.  And…”  Finally, fucking finally, their eyes locked and Sam could see behind the mask.  “I don’t know how bad I jacked up the future.  But there’s work to be done.  Get out there, do your job.”

“Let me see you again.  Afterwards—” Sam pressed.  Their meeting, finally being able to talk about _them_ , this couldn’t be for nothing.  He wouldn’t allow it.  “Let me thank you.  Please.”

Everything he could imagine about his future—no matter how ‘jacked-up’—about being _fated_ was opened up and raw in front of him.  Who the hell knew this would happen?

With a mischievous grin, the Trickster quipped, “Oh, I can think of a few ways you could thank me…”  He winked lewdly, stating, “But from now on, call me Gabriel,” and disappeared right from under Sam’s fingertips.

Accompanied by the sound of beating wings.

“Sammy!” Dean shouted from behind him, and as began putting together all the pieces, he turned to face his brother.  His panicked, distressed and distracting brother.  “Are you okay?!  What just happened?!  I thought I saw someone—!”

Sam fumbled with the words, he tripped over his own tongue, yet...when it came to Gabriel: he was pretty fucking positive about his quick thinking as the facts aligned.  “Dean—I-I think I have a guardian angel, or something—”

His brother rolled his eyes and chuckled, pulling Sam into his arms.  “I think you hit your head or you’re losing too much blood.  C’mon, let’s get you fixed up.”

“No!  Dean, we need to get to Bobby‘s, Yellow-Eyes, he—”

Dean recoiled at the name and turned back to Bobby, before focusing on Sam.  “Okay, okay!  Let’s get back to the car!  Yer gonna tell me everything!”

\-------------------

Gabriel didn’t know why he did it.  He didn’t know why he was doing any of this shit!  But from the second he met Sam Winchester, to the second he discovered the bond, he realized there were different kinds of Fate.

Some mattered more than others.

He didn’t believe in his Father anymore.  For some reason?  He believed in this one, puny hunter.

Enough that he stopped Sam's predetermined and foretold death.  Gabriel effectively put an end to Dean’s Crossroad’s Deal, to boot.

He slammed an _entire prophesy_ to a halt, what Heaven and Hell had been gunning for since Dad left—and why?  Because his soulmate had a stellar set of puppy eyes and a nice ass?  No, the kid was so much more than that.

Plus, Gabriel hated that stupid Michael vs. Lucifer thing from the start.    
  
…Even though the majority of the angels didn’t know it was in the works, Gabriel was always privy to eavesdropping and being knowledgeable to the high-level, top-secret shit.  It’s what made him so good at hiding _from_ it.

This was the quickest way to nip the whole kit-and-caboodle in the bud.  Sure, there would be more chances, but this was the swiftest, most effective and maybe…

He couldn’t bring himself to stand by and watch Sam die.  Wow.

Sam had come into his life and changed things faster than he'd ever let the kid know.

The hunter had already done him a favor, he knew damn well Gabriel was alive and turned a blind eye.  Gabriel could repay him, right?  This was a hell of a payment…

There was no denying the way Sam looked at him.  How he wanted more.  The way the word ‘soulmate’ came to life when they touched.  It was fucking insane.  It was life changing and, in fact, had him acting like a goddamn moron!

Well.  Things would play out.  Gabriel had already stuck his nose where it didn't belonged, but he could hide from his family.  Sam?  He was a different story.

A different story, in the way he kind of _wanted_ to be found.

\------------------------

Yellow-Eyes hadn’t played fair.

Then again, Sam supposed he hadn’t played fair either.

Once the demon resurrected Ava, she was more than happy to break the Devil’s Gate wide open.  Not only to repay him, but because she was that far gone—corrupt to her core.  Ava's transformation left Sam speechless: the once happy woman—giddy about her future, of getting married—was calculating and diabolical.  
  
During the clusterfuck of trying to shut the Gate again, to kill Yellow-Eyes and stop the demon plague from being released, something good came out of it.  Sam never thought there could be a silver lining in such a nightmare situation…  
  
They saw their Father.  
  
John had scratched and clawed his way out through Hell and escaped.  After selling his soul for Dean, he actually managed to get out, and the guilt bearing down on the brother’s shoulders finally lifted.  Watching their Dad ascended to Heaven filled them with hope, praying he'd soon join their Mom.  His life's work had been a never-ending struggle to avenge Mary: he deserved to be reunited with her.  
  
After all...John and Mary had been soulmates too.  If they didn't get a happy ending, what chance did Sam have?  
  
It was up to them to make things right on Earth.  And they fucking _did it._

Between Ellen, Bobby and Dean, they’d _finally_ killed the demon.  The same one that shaped the trajectory of their lives.

Yet, immeasurable  _other_ demons had been let loose on Earth.

Was it a win?  So many things had happened—it was monumental—but Sam had to remember what mattered: they all made it out alive.  Coming out of a fiasco with everyone still standing couldn't be taken for granted, not these days.

There was a war to be fought and they had to move to the offensive.  
  
First, though, they _needed_ a chance to rest.  After doing nothing but firing on all cylinders, they hadn't taken a single break until their win.  They’d pick back up on the next battle—soon.  After they made sure no member of their team—their  _family_ —dropped dead of sheer exhaustion.  
  
Some days, it felt like fatigue would be what took them out—not the enemy.  
  
Part of the downfalls of being human, while fighting against everything supernatural, was their body wearing down.  Their eyes growing heavy and, no matter what, it felt like there were never enough hours during the day to get any real sleep.  
  
It didn't matter if Sam was running on empty, this was usually the best time for him to regroup and collect his thoughts.  Allow the weight of events to sink in, to settle, and recognize the victory and consequences of...well, countless things he needed to sort out.

Once Sam had a chance to mull it over, one such event stuck out in his mind.  The reflection of how close (a matter of _seconds_ , close) he had come to _truly_ losing his life.  
  
Without intervention...Sam would've died.    
  
Where alarm bells should’ve been ringing, Sam was too damn preoccupied by the fact he had a soulmate.  One who… _cared_.  He had proof.

While they all took a breather, Sam couldn’t relax, not quite yet.  He should—no, he _had to_ —figure this out.

This time, he wasn't helplessly at the whims of a Trickster playing dead—Sam had an advantage: he was armed with a name.  
  
If his initial reaction his gut instinct was true: this Trickster wasn’t a Trickster at all.  All the signs pointed in a different direction.  
  
The name Gabriel.  The flight of wings.  The next-level power.  Sam’s conviction was both fuel and ammunition—Gabriel  _had_ to be an angel.  Not just any angel, if Sam knew his lore...fuck, even when he knew his theory sounded _outlandish,_ he had faith.  
  
...Faith.  How ironic.

That evening, Sam had skipped out on Dean’s invite to a night of drinking.  Who knew if it was to celebrate or drown out the image of their Dad alongside the demons.  Sam found himself alone, pacing the lawn.  Bobby was already asleep, Ellen was long gone in dreamland, and Sam did something more common than even his own brother knew about.

He took a seat on the porch steps, folded his hands together and ducked his head.

Sam prayed.

When he felt the bond—now more real and vibrant than ever—illuminate and tighten, he smiled.

Oh—Sam _hadn’t_ expected his legs being kicked open, but a familiar face did exactly _that,_ making room for himself to stand between Sam's limbs.

Sam looked up to Gabriel towering above him, where he was at a disadvantage sitting low on the second stair.  He could _feel_  the power surrounding him, it made his damn heart race.  
  
Seeing Gabriel wasn’t bothering with pretense or holding back, Sam didn't either: he acknowledged aloud, “You’re an archangel.”

Gabriel didn’t make the effort to feign surprise.  He hummed, hand rising when he replied, “Means I can do this,” and when he touched Sam’s forehead, every wound, every scratch—hell—every ache he’d _ever had_ , evaporated from his body.

Dizziness washed over him and Sam’s arms shot out to the rickety old wood behind him, steadying himself.  “Woah, that’s... _crazy_.”

“Now you double-owe me,” Gabriel announced, grinning wickedly.  “You come up with any ideas, or do have to spoon-feed you?”

“I can think of a few things…” Sam smirked back and used his planted hands to lunge forward, springing to his feet.

And, dammit, if Sam didn’t feel proud when he managed to catch the archangel off guard—cradling his cheeks and kissing him with abandon.  
  
It felt _so fucking right_ _—_

Gabriel’s hands rushed up to grab his wrists and, at first, Sam thought he was going to break them apart.  They ended up…lingering.  All it took was a moment's worth of deliberation, before agreeing this was great, kissing Sam back.  
  
When Sam assumed full-well they'd reached the point of snapping—the tension of _finally_ coming together too much to bear— Gabriel surprised him by taking control and changing the mood through a strangely tender touch.

Before the heady lack of air made for spotty vision, Sam drew away and pressed their foreheads together.  “You’re…not what I was expecting.”

“And you’re everything I thought you were,” Gabriel countered, his thumb tracing Sam's swollen lip.  “A pain in the ass.  Reckless.  Gorgeous as hell.  And _too_ friggin _pure_ ,” he spit out the words like they were a bad thing.  His timbre changed when he wondered aloud, “How the hell did you end up stuck with someone like me?  We couldn’t be more different.”

Sam shuddered as Gabriel slid one hand down his back and firmly grasped his waist.  Chuckling and stealing another kiss ( _Jesus_ , he couldn’t get enough) Sam posed the question, “Wouldn’t you be the one to ask?  I’m guessing that angels — holy crap, I can’t believe I’m saying this — know more about how the universe works.  How _does_ God choose soulmates?  How do two people meet and know they’re fated to be together?”

At first, he was worried he’d said something wrong.  The archangel pulled away all at once and Sam couldn’t get a read on him.  He chased after Gabriel, no way in hell was Sam letting him leave again!  
  
This time, Gabriel rounded on him with an extended arm and turned his world upside down much more severely than last time—one second they were on the porch and the next—

They were up in Bobby's guest room.  The one where Sam was staying.

Blinking wildly as his eyes adjusted, Sam whipped his attention around and fumbled out, “Did we— _teleport_?”

“Flew.  First Class.”  Gabriel’s smug answer quickly turned impish in action, shoving Sam back onto the mattress.  “I had to peek into your head, see if this place was safe.  Where you’d be at the end of the night, that is.  This joint's very…Singer-Chic.”  He gestured to the room before boxing Sam in and sneering, “You don’t fit in the bed, Sammy.”

“I don’t fit into a lot of beds,” he countered, attempting to glare.

Except…it was so fucking difficult, because even though Gabriel wasn’t outright seducing him, _Sam_ craved more.

He wanted to be with the Trickster-discovered-Archangel.  He wanted to know about him.  About why he’d chosen the path of punishing terrible examples of humans, effectively painting a target on his back, instead of bouncing around in the clouds, unknown and and unheard of by the hunter community.  He knew there was endless depth inside Gabriel, not only from the years of knowledge he carried but from the choices and experiences making him undeniably unique.  
  
Sam craved being _with him_ in every sense of the word and their proximity was swaying the definition of 'being with' in a more... _physical_ direction.

“My, my…”  Gabriel brushed the tousled hair away from Sam’s brow.  “Knew you were the smart Winchester: your brain’s always working in high gear.  You can't shut it off, can you?  But _these_ thoughts are very, very... _entertaining_.  Ya know, you don't have to wonder those things—you could just ask, kiddo.”

Wait…

Sam watched him closely before realizing, “You’re reading my mind?”  When Gabriel opened his mouth to reply, he was swiftly shut up with, “You obviously want to be in my life.  I want you here, too.  First?  We’re laying some ground rules.   _Keep out_ of my thoughts, no invading my privacy—”

“Hey—your so-called ‘thoughts’ are louder than anything coming from yer mouth,” he complained and rolled his eyes.  Enhancing his dramatics, Gabriel rolled off Sam and groused, “Ground rules?  This doesn’t sound fun.  At all.”

“I’ll make it fun,” Sam turned over to his side, right on Gabriel's tail.  He hoped the yearning—the urgent longing coiling in his gut—wasn’t bleeding through and giving him away when he admitted, “ _God_ , do I wanna make it fun.  I wanna start now.”

From what Sam already figured out, Gabriel responded to touch.  The Trickster, from day one, had been constant jest and flirting: words were words that kept them from getting close.  
  
When Sam began something, Gabriel _would_ finish it.  Even though he didn't know why yet (he would find out—much like everything else about Gabriel) Sam realized he would have to be the instigator.

The only time the archangel made the first move was showing up to save Sam.    
  
After that, Sam had to lure him back out when he prayed.  He had a feeling Gabriel didn’t know what to do, and while Sam was no expert on this (he’d never expected to meet his soulmate, hell no) he knew one thing.

What he felt was _real_.  And every second they were here, the bond grew stronger.  Their connection and chemistry was insanity.  Sam knew he hadn't been the only one teeming with a bone-deep ache to reunite after their discovery, but it was just as scary as it was enticing.  Now that they'd passed the hurdle?  There was nothing left to fear.

Sam smiled softly and scooted closer, until he was close enough to graze his nose against Gabriel’s cheek and wrap his arm around his waist.  The archangel was piqued interest, analyzing Sam's actions and—  
  
Moaning abruptly (quite happily) when Sam's mouth closed and nipped the sensitive flesh of Gabriel’s neck.

“Is this how you’re gonna make it fun?” Gabriel asked on a sharp inhale, utterly entranced.  “Here I thought I knew you.  Are you makin' it a mission to prove me wrong?”

Tightening his grip and hauling their bodies together, Sam laughed and rested his head in the crook of the archangel’s neck.  “I’m keeping you on your toes.”  Now, it was Sam who was inquisitive, “Am I boring?  Is that what you 'thought you knew' before?”

“Nah.”  Gabriel’s fingertips followed the length of Sam’s arm before parting.  He boldly grabbed Sam’s rear and squeezed—making Sam’s eyes double while their bodies pressed even closer—taunting, “Hunters, Sammy, they don’t blindly  _trust_ the monsters.  But you’re letting one—”

“You’re _not_ a monster.”  There was passion behind his words, maybe relating to his own knowledge about the demon blood; if an _actual_ Angel of the Lord thought he was filth?  Where did that leave Sam?  “And I trust you because you saved me.  You could’ve stayed in the shadows, you’re a creation that’s been around since the dawn of time—I’m barely a blip on your radar.  But…you came out of hiding _for me._  You said you crossed huge fuckin’ lines with biblical consequences.  For me.  How could I _not_ trust you?”

Childlike fascination danced in Gabriel’s eyes when they met Sam’s, and all the hunter could say was, “I _feel this_.  I know you’re my soulmate and it’s not just my life I trust you with.  I-I think you’re gonna have my heart before I know it, too.”

Gabriel didn’t waste any more time on words.  Finally, _he_ was the one who acted.

Just as before, his touch was tender.  Yet, it was hungrier and more demanding, Sam’s tongue licking inside Gabriel’s mouth was a eager and obvious ‘Yes,’ to his open desire.

For the first time in his life, Sam felt…special.  There was no other word to describe it.

The present company, the facts laid out on the table—everything in black and white—it would tell the average person, yes, Sam was very fucking special because of who his soulmate was.  Which would have to make Sam someone extraordinary, too, right?  Except, Sam had never felt anything other than human—a poor example, at that.

His instincts, the ones that had first pulled him towards Gabriel, he was conflicted, imaging this was too good to be true.  At the same time, being soulmates was undeniable and Sam didn't care if he was a passing thought in Gabriel's endless existence—if everything worked out, and Gabriel turned out to be a huge part of his life?  He wouldn't complain for a damn minute.  The phenomena was already taking hold, constricting around his heart and maybe...  Maybe Gabriel had sensed that?

Because he was pushing his everything into worshiping Sam’s body, inch by inch, with his mouth.  With a clever tongue and affectionate kiss.  Gabriel took his time, every now and then returning to Sam’s lips and swallowing his moans while he unraveled.

Was it…possible?  Their connection continued deepening as the clock ticked on?

In the dead of night they forced themselves to stay quiet, as to not to wake the other hunters in the house.  Who knew when Dean would come back—that was the farthest thing from Sam's mind.  
  
Their first meeting was meant to kill Gabriel.  Their second: a success to save Sam.  Was making love _possible_ so soon?  Why did Sam already _sense_ those intentions, those hot waves rolling from Gabriel's presence—?

“Third time’s a charm,” Gabriel chuckled, crawling back up Sam’s wanting and desperate body, and sucking a mark against his neck.

With a head butt to redirect Gabriel’s attention, Sam’s husky, “No mind reading,” prefaced the frenzied clash of tongues and teeth.  He could feel Gabriel's smile against his mouth, the angel knew damn well what he was doing, and Sam playfully bit his lip, “Unfair advantage.  Takes all the fun out of it.”

“You’re telling me…” Gabriel’s fingers dug into Sam’s spread, sweating thighs, “You’re _not_ having fun?”

No sooner had he said the words, did Gabriel slide into Sam’s pliable and waiting body.  

It took everything in him—every ounce of control, of willpower—not to scream when they were moving together as one.  Gabriel pounded into him with the tempo of a man forlorn, being reunited with his lover. That’s what it felt like—a reunion.

They moved in sync as though they’d done this a million times, only to be starved for one another until now.  It was too easy, Gabriel's cock stretching, filling and luring Sam so naturally towards ecstasy—in no way did this feel like their first.  
  
He read (or watched) the signals through lust-fulled eyes, licking his lips and soaking in the sight of Sam underneath him.  Gabriel picked up the pace the more Sam writhed and bucked off the bed, both needing more and wanting it to last forever.  Gabriel used muscle to spread Sam’s legs wider, pitching forward to thrust into Sam deeper.  Their proximity was ideal for the archangel to thrive, taking joy in his work: Sam beginning to absolutely lose it. 

Fuck—in the haze of it, still...all Sam wanted was to hold him!  But his body was a live wire.

This surge of light and power—Gabriel had mentioned something about _grace_ —it uprooted the fabric of his being and he felt himself being pulled, being sucked in.  Sam couldn’t hold back.  For the briefest moment, fear flashed in his eyes, because he didn’t want Bobby and Ellen knowing what was happening in here, but he was choking on air, his words and—!

“I got you,” Gabriel assured him, snapping his fingers and—even though Sam wasn’t sure what he’d done—the pressure was gone.  Driving the point home, Gabriel purred, “Let me hear all those delicious sounds, Sam,” and the dam broke.

His hips slammed against Gabriel’s so frantically, the wet, sloppy sound of their joining filled the room.

Finally, _finally_ Sam’s moans of pleasure and impending orgasm were released, unafraid.

“Holy fuck, Gabriel!” he whined, nails biting against the archangel’s hips as he fucked back onto him eagerly.  “You f-feel amazing.  Like you belong inside me—” Sam tossed his head back as a full-body jolt shot down his spine, white-hot bliss surging towards his cock.

Thrashing, Sam had so many words to say but no time.  Not anymore.  He was _so close_ and he prayed the archangel was, too.

Fuck, simply  _watching_ Gabriel move was enough—how he pumped his hips and ground down on the angle that made Sam choke on liquid satisfaction—every move was aimed at pleasing Sam.  ...Until his damn legs went numb.  
  
Oh, Gabriel's _eyes_ …even in the near pitch-black of the darkened room, Sam could see embers glowing a faint gold, overwrought by arousal and gleaming from the intensity behind their connection.  The intensity already produced an entanglement and depth that shouldn’t be there, not yet, but _it was—_  
  
Sam's impulse to lie to his family, to save Gabriel.  Gabriel's impulse to intervene and derail destiny, to save Sam.  Now, the line blurring between fucking and making love, it proved (against the odds) they were true and pure soulmates.

When their eyes met and Gabriel's expression read as plain as day—that he really could love him, it was over for Sam.

As a last ditch effort, Sam encouraged, begging, “ _Please_ , cum inside me,” making Gabriel growl out with new found-tenacity—Sam already seeing bursting stars.

It was unequivocally stunning, this rush wasn’t only physical euphoria.  What Sam knew by now as grace surrounded them both.  He could even feel it running through his veins, and the room was awash in a brilliant flash of blue-white light.

Sam felt the heat, lingering and constant, as a flame licking along every inch of him Gabriel had touched.  His lungs were worn and hoarse from shouts of pleasure, and when he came down...the first thing that registered was the light press of lips...gently caressing the expanse of his neck.

Gabriel was hovering over him rather than curled up, and Sam knew damn well it was because his chest.  The heaving, panting lungfuls of air he was still fighting for were impossible to relax against.  
  
Sam _may_ have been embarrassed about short-circuiting, about how overloaded his senses were, over how _goddamn wrecked_ he was... but he couldn't bring himself to give a flying fuck.  
  
Instead, Sam concentrated on cooling down, while he listened to the happy hum delighting his ears.  And the sweet touch soothing his feverish, damp skin.

“Hey there,” Gabriel whispered, placing one, chaste kiss on Sam’s lips.  “How you doing, kiddo?”

His beaming smile was untamed, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s waist and flipping him over.  The bed creaked and the ancient springs protested as Sam tackled him to the bed, the archangel laughing over the burst of energy and letting Sam have his way.

“Mm, will you stay?”  Sam was hopeful, relaxing against him.  The way they naturally wrapped together made him feel like he was home.

He prayed his strong feelings were mutual.

Thoughtfully, Gabriel seemed to consider it, yet posed the question, “And what happens when Big Bro pops back in and sneaks a peek?  Making sure Baby Brother is sleeping soundly?”  Their cheeks brushed, while they settled against the mattress.  “Pretty damn positive he’d flip his shit.  Say you’ve got _a thing_ for monsters.”

“But you’re not—” Sam's protest was halted by Gabriel’s finger against his lips, and while his heart knew the truth, reality knew, well…there were _different_ truths.

“I’ll stay with you until he staggers his drunken ass back here.  How does that sound?”

Sam grinned and said, “Sounds like more than I was expecting.”

“Why?”  Gabriel’s frown was a fake: dramatic, and still, somehow, adorable.  “You think I’d just hit it and quit it?  That’s rude.”

“You literally bent time and space to stop the people in this house from seeing you last time.”  Sam snorted and rolled his eyes.  “So _yeah_.  I thought you’d hit the road a lot sooner.  Like, the first chance you got.”

“Things change.”  Gabriel’s words were soft in a way that surprised Sam, indicating he, too, had veered off his chosen path.  “You changed ’em.  Sure, before I thought I couldn’t let you die.  But after watching over you, being with you, seeing your soul?  I don’t know which of the Three Bitches linked us together.  I don’t know which one of the sisters lost a bet.  Maybe took a walk on the wild side.  But…it ended with me getting you.  I’m a greedy bastard, and I’d be happy to call you mine.”  
  
The 'if you let me' was an unsaid question, heavy in the air.

Enthralled and captivated, Sam let those words sink in and drew from the warmth of Gabriel’s body pressed up against his, caught up in the fantastic heat.  It was a grounding force and sensation that told him: this _was_ real.  Not a dream.  Not a stupid premonition.  Not his afterlife, because (as Gabriel had reminded him) he’d already taken care of keeping him around, long past his expiration date, against the rules.

Sam was so enraptured as the facts continued piling up, he didn't understand the arched eyebrow and how long the span of silence carried on.  He must—no, he was—sleep-deprived, and being well-fucked didn't help matters at all.  Sam tilted his head in silent question, and Gabriel scoffed.

“Is that okay?” the archangel asked more directly, cuffing a finger underneath Sam’s chin.  “While I _could_ read your mind, there’s that pesky mention pertaining to your ‘ground rules.'”  He clucked his tongue and said, “Tell me if I’m allowed to be greedy, you beautiful jackass.”

“Oh.”  Well, Gabriel had taken a risk  _and_ allowed Sam his privacy when he could've easily done neither.  While Sam was tempted to let him sweat it out, he was too damn happy.  Sam hadn’t been this happy since…he couldn’t remember.  “No shit, you’re allowed to.  Soulmates, right?”

“Yeah.  Soulmates,” Gabriel echoed, a small lilt of disbelief mixed with wonder.  “I’m gonna be here for you, Sammy.  I want you to know that.  Even if things get hairy, I’m in your corner.”

“Are they?”  The way Gabriel tried to be nonchalant and tacked that on...almost like a disclaimer.  It was worrying.  “The Devil’s Gate?”

Gabriel waited a beat before confessing, “There may be bigger things than your run-of-the-mill demons.”  Just when Sam’s shoulders tensed, Gabriel refused to let anything sway or influence him: they both wanted to keep themselves in _this_ mindset and Gabriel greased the wheels with another kiss.  And another.

This, right here, was amazing in a whole different way—Gabriel’s walls were down.

He wasn’t being sarcastic, deliberately seductive or trying to please Sam—Gabriel was open and forthcoming; true and unfiltered.  Sam basked in every goddamn second of it, the make-out going in all the right directions...

He forgot what they were even speaking about, until Gabriel pulled him down to his chest and kissed his forehead.  “I’m a prayer away.  There’s a lot you don’t know about angels.  One day soon, I'll try to answer all your questions, but you need to realize somethings, okay?  And it's serious."  His tone echoed his sentiments and Sam perked up, soaking in each word.  " _Never_ broadcast your prayers to anyone who will listen.  Because everyone _, every angel,_  can snoop.  Make sure if you're dialing up Angel Radio to dedicate a song: it’s directly to me."  
  
His confusion must have been evident, because Gabriel went on to soothe, "I know, your constantly high-gear-brain.  I don't care, make a list in code of all your questions.  I’ll fill you in on our second date.  Or the third....I can't lie, I plan on having my way with you, next chance I get.”

“That _wasn’t_ having your way with me?” Sam asked wryly, his traitorous eyes growing heavy as Gabriel’s hand carded through his hair.  The move was calming, hypnotizing.

“The things I’m gonna do to you…” Gabriel mused, that familiar devilish tone making a comeback.  “You won’t know what hit you.”

With a happy sigh, Sam agreed.  “I think I like the sound of that.”

“You better.  You’re stuck with me.”

Sam tilted his chin and peered up to the archangel, taking in the sight of everything _Gabriel_.  After all, Sam knew that he would nod off soon and he didn't know the next time they'd see one another.  Right now, more than anything, Sam wanted to commit this to memory.  This image of happiness.  Of Gabriel, relaxed and falling for him.  Just as Sam was falling...faster than the speed of light.  Sam captured the imagine of fondness in Gabriel's normally cunning, sharp and dangerous stare.  Everything about it was…perfect.

“No human, god, monster or angel I’d rather be stuck with.”  Sam leaned up once more, hating when he’d kiss Gabriel again was unknown.    
  
Sam resolutely decided to make this one count.

When they parted, it was due to Sam’s exhaustion finally hitting a peak.  The ups and downs of a hunter's life, plus the Devil’s Gate (a nightmare bigger than himself) had left Sam torn and frayed...but from here on out; he had a secret weapon.

The secret weapon _wasn’t_ the power of the archangel, no—that coincidentally ended up being who Sam couldn’t live without.  Although, Gabriel _could_ easily take down any enemy.  Sam figured his power was beyond measure.  If Dean was aware they had an actual real-life _angel_ in their arsenal, he’d be using the tool to cleanse the goddamn world of evil.

Sam didn’t want that.  Gabriel _wasn’t his weapon,_ either.

No, the thing was: Sam had motivation to keep going.  To give him a kick in the ass, whether Gabriel knew it or not.  See, what they had being soulmates was something worth  _fighting for._

Seeing the dawn on each new day.  The sun rising.  Another life-changing moment while he was falling in love.  Counting down until the next time he could see Gabriel.  Wrapping up hunts so they could be together.  Finding courage to tell his brother, because he had such convictions about what they had and Sam didn’t want to hide it anymore.  
  
Such a multi-faceted ‘weapon’ could do a world of good for a boy who felt doomed, poisoned by demon blood.  
  
It gave Sam a purpose.  It made him realize he _was_ something special, because together: they had the potential to be  _remarkable_.

Gabriel knew his faults, his skeletons, he accepted Sam as he was, shit—he never blinked or broke stride.

“This is…” Sam was fighting to keep his eyes open, Gabriel’s warmth so damn inviting, beginning to beckon him to sleep... “the _best thing_ that’s ever happened to me.”

There was a tiny hiccup in his comforting touches, but no hesitation in Gabriel’s voice when he whispered, “Me too, Sammy.  Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to [GlitchedWings](https://idjitsaviors.tumblr.com/) who helped me get started with the editing on this one <3 As we reach the halfway point, all errors are my own


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